


Too Much

by yikesola



Series: giving the people what they want [12]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2010, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 06:55:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20831252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yikesola/pseuds/yikesola
Summary: There’s plenty about Phil that is too much. And Dan fucking loves it. Too much and not quite enough and just fucking right. All at once.A fic about greediness and ache.





	Too Much

**Author's Note:**

  * For [intoapuddle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoapuddle/gifts).

> Happy birthday [intoapuddle](http://intoapuddle.tumblr.com) 🥰🎉 Betaed by the wonderful [calvinahobbes](http://calvinahobbes.tumblr.com).

There’s plenty about Phil that is too much. And Dan fucking loves it. Too much and not quite enough and just fucking right. All at once. 

He makes Dan feel too much— overwhelmed by feeling understood, by feeling known, by feeling seen. After a lifetime of not feeling that. And not quite enough in the sense that Dan is greedy. He always wants one more day, one more hour. He always wants one more kiss, one more lingering look. One more soul-shaking orgasm. And he doesn’t get them because there’s always a train to catch, but he holds onto that greediness for next time. It feels long, but they never have _that long_ to wait. 

That’s when it’s just fucking right. All at once.

Even when Phil makes Dan feel so much it’s gonna break his bones, and even when Dan feels it’s not quite enough because the clock continues to tick tick tick away their precious time— Phil feels just fucking right.

Dan’s not gonna put it in words. He gets tongue tied, flustered. He can rattle and ramble about things that don’t matter, he can make a joke that may or may not land, because the goal is always to get Phil laughing. To see his eyes crease with laughter. To know he’s the cause. 

But that’s not the same as going on and on and on in circles about when Phil’s too much and when he’s not quite enough and how none of that is Phil’s doing anyways— it’s just _Phil_. Just Phil, and how Dan reacts to him. How he always has, from the days he’d marathon twenty old AmazingPhil videos and it’d be too much or he’d sit down to a new one only two and a half minutes long and it just wasn’t enough. 

It’s different now, the way Phil Lester and AmazingPhil are different, but Dan’s cravings and patterns all look the same. 

They’ve gotten good at patterns, at routines and rituals over the months as they made frequent visits across the country to see each other. That’s all going to change now, as Phil’s living in Manchester and Dan himself will be moved as well in a matter of days. 

He’s tired from being fresh off of Reading Festival, a belly full of Phil’s specialty— scrambled eggs— hair slowly drying curly from the shower he’d taken, and the warm cozy comfort of staying at his boyfriend’s flat. There’s so much built-in comfort to knowing that there is no risk of interruption; knowing that there is no risk of a parent overhearing whatever they get up to. It’s weirdly grown up. It makes his mind wander to the possibilities, even if he is tired. After all, Phil has energy to spare tonight, having inexplicably had a second coffee that afternoon. 

He leans over on the sofa to lay his head on Phil’s shoulder and says as much. “You should do all the work tonight. Ravish me, Philly.” 

Phil snorts. “When do I not do all the work?” 

Dan lifts a hand to swat at Phil’s chest. That’s hardly true, but Dan goes along with the bant. “I got fancy once. Practically gymnastic.”

“Must’ve been with some other guy. I don’t remember any gymnastics.” 

Dan swats him again. There’s been no other guy. Not since Phil looked his way. Phil knows that, arrogant wanker. “If you’re too tired, old man, I could—”

Phil claps a hand over Dan’s mouth. Dan licks the palm but Phil holds it there. “Uh-uh, you had my attention at _ravish_, Howell.” 

“Then get to it,” Dan mutters behind Phil’s hand. 

Phil does. He moves his hand and uses it to tug on Dan’s hair and pull him back. He bends to kiss him. He bites at Dan’s lips. He’s eager fast, wastes no time. Too much, like he can be sometimes. And after a few minutes it’s not enough. 

Dan moves with the intent of straddling him, but Phil stands. He tugs at Dan’s sleeve and they take the very few steps required to get to the bedroom. They don’t bother to close the door. It reminds Dan of the week in December, when they had free rein of the Lester’s home in Rawtenstall. Uma Thurman isn’t on the outside of the door anymore but she still gets a plenty decent view of the bed from the opposite wall. 

Dan lays down after tossing his hoodie aside and Phil does a damn good job of living up to that promise to ravish him. His lips and teeth and tongue are everywhere on Dan’s burning skin: his shoulders and neck and down the line of his waist. He bites at the jut of Dan’s hipbone. He reaches for one of Dan’s hands and pushes a finger between his perfect fucking lips. Dan’s head is swimming, he’s tuned out of any and all introspection he sometimes indulges in when they’re physical. Right now he’s just feeling. He’s just feeling the attentiveness Phil showers on him. 

Phil simultaneously takes his time and works impatiently. He strips his and Dan’s clothing off piece by piece, but with each one he throws it aside like the garment offended him by covering them up. He presses his lips to both innocuous and specific areas of Dan’s body, but he does so hungrily, wetly, eagerly. He opens Dan up with intention, but watches him all the while with blue eyes dilated dark. 

Some of his usual introspection tumbles out of Dan while Phil watches him. “What are you thinking?” he asks, not sure if Phil will tell him something sexy or funny or true. 

He figures it’s all three when Phil says, “You. Fuck, Dan, you’re just—” He bends forward and kisses him. When words fail him, Phil goes tactile. 

Dan gets Phil’s bottom lip between his teeth and holds his as long as either of them can bear. He moves a hand down and grips Phil’s wrist and chokes out some kind of noise when Phil’s fingers still inside him. “Want you,” he says. “Fuck me.” 

“Ravish,” Phil winks. Tries to wink. It’s effective enough. 

Dan knows from Phil’s first push in that he’s not going to last long. The buildup has been too good, too eager from the get go. But he just sinks into the feeling as Phil sinks into him, hyperaware of the dips in Phil’s mattress and the sound of the television they left on in the lounge and the layer of sweat coating them both. Then that hyperawareness fades away. He zeroes in on Phil, on where they meet. On the sounds he makes unconsciously and the sounds Phil makes in response. On the sharpness of the nails on Phil’s left hand digging into the flesh of Dan’s hip. Of the good, good, good, _so fucking good_ coursing through him. 

He comes on a cry of Phil’s name. He comes from the friction of their bodies pressed together with his cock messing them both, and from a particularly good angle Phil hits almost unintentionally. He comes with a crashing return of that hyperawareness. 

“Keep going,” he says when he comes back to earth and notices Phil has stilled, inside him but unmoving, the arms holding him up shaking slightly with the effort. 

“What?” Phil chokes out. 

“Keep going,” he says again, “til you come inside me.” 

The words seem to take a second to seep into Phil’s brain. He’s just panting and the muscles of his arms are tense. They don’t usually do that. Dan gets too sensitive, or just wants to bask in the afterglow while Phil pulls out and wanks beside him. But he wants it right now, he’s feeling that greediness. That sense that this was good, was wonderful, wasn’t quite enough. 

Dan can feel another twitch of Phil’s cock inside him when he tenses up to show he means it. Then it all seems to click and Phil groans and bends down to bite into Dan’s shoulder as he starts thrusting his hips again. 

Yes, Dan thinks, _yes_. This is what he wanted— the ache in his shoulder where Phil’s teeth are still gripped, the twinge in his back from continuing to arch like he is, the punched out feeling he gets every time Phil moves into him again. Not enough turns into too much. It’s too much, and it’s so fucking good. His skin is on fire and he doesn’t have the brainpower to make a stupid fucking usename crack about it. He can feel the current of his blood, he can feel each individual cell as they scream at him for begging for this. 

But he’s not sorry. Far from it.

He’s aware enough to focus on Phil’s face when he reaches his own peak a few moments later. It’s the only situation under which Phil can get anymore beautiful. He feels the distant sort of messiness of Phil filling him, a primal kind of pleasure even if the cleanup won’t feel worth it when they’re done buzzing on endorphins. 

His cock feels raw where it’s still being rubbed between their stomachs, but now that Phil has stilled and fallen on him there’s a sense of relief. He lifts his arms which feel heavier than sandbags, but not in the bad way they sometimes do on his sad days. He traces his fingers along what he can reach of Phil’s spine and shoulder blades. He feels Phil’s hot breath against his neck. Feels the press of a kiss. Feels a halfhearted nip of a bite. Feels Phil’s tongue follow immediately️. 

Dan feels good. Tired and sated and good. 

There’s a hint of claustrophobia at having Phil’s entire weight on him like this, something Phil— so polite— rarely does. And it’s feeling a bit too much that Phil hasn’t pulled out of him yet. Still, his ingrained greediness wants just a little while longer in this satisfied haze. A few more moments, a few more heartbeats, where everything about he and Phil is too much and not quite enough and just fucking right. All at once.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading— come say hi on [tumblr](http://yikesola.tumblr.com/post/188044031359/too-much) !


End file.
